Of Rogues
by Fey Halfkin
Summary: A Challenge response. R/R! 'Not only heroes do Quests; and not are all adventures are for Goodness. Hear a tale of a most unique pair, who gain when trouble takes them.'


From a challenge to make a story mainly carried in conversation. I chose a fantasy setting, as at the last minute to deadline I found inspiration in the first sentence used in another's fic. They've my thanks and wonder, because somehow I heard every word written here.  
  
Please, read and review as the style is experimental. And the poor language of one rouge is completely their fault.  
  
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"I don't suppose you got the keys to these, do ya?"  
  
"Of all the. yes I do."  
  
The click of metal as the lock opened. I listened patiently in the darkness as the two voices whispered and light footsteps on the stone floor shifted.  
  
"Oh good 'cause that guard took my lock picks, my good ones mind you. And they call me a thief! Taking somebody's tools of trade and ..."  
  
"Shhh!"  
  
"Don't ya be shushing me. Today hasn't been good for me and I'm not taking none of that from you."  
  
"Do you have a death wish? The old man said there were old magic guarding this treasure."  
  
"The same old man that offered us the map, took our 'no' to be permission for arrest on his charge, and then got all dewy-eyed with sympathy before giving us nay choice? That old man ya say?"  
  
I head a spit of disgust and another's sigh of frustration. They were interesting to eavesdrop on. The faint scent of blood, damp sweat and a burning torch reached my nose as I leaned forward from my perch above.  
  
"Aye. I mean, yes. And if you give me that obnoxious accent mixing of yours.."  
  
"You'll what? Cut out my tongue? Complain, complain. Just look at the bright spot."  
  
"You mean bright side."  
  
"Yeah, bright spot. But I don't trust that old man. Slimy toad on the mud that he is. If we live he owns me another pick-set for the ones he had his goons take after giving me that headache."  
  
"I'm about to do the same thing in a minute. Break my hand on your thick head if we don't get out of here soon. This place is intimidating."  
  
There was a chuckle from the lighter voice. He must have been trying to smother the sound for it ranged in sound from one moment to the next. His words wheezed around the sound.  
  
"What? All them creepy faces of dead dudes watching us, or is it these snarling monsters of rock before the torch light shines on them?"  
  
"They're gargoyles, Slipwalk. And I was thinking more along the lines of the warnings on the walls. 'Never will you see the world again should you trespass. Never will you leave should you take the jewel.' Very ominous sounding."  
  
"Lighten up already. If we don't get the jewel to him, we're executed. If we do get the jewel, but refuse to come out, we die of thirst and hunger. On the other hand, if we fail, we still get killed by some bloody booby trap."  
  
A quick pause before the voice continued in a thoughtful tone.  
  
"Booby trap. Boo-by. Would that make us boobies? 'Cause that doesn't sound nice at all."  
  
"You never fail to surprise me with such trivial chatter."  
  
"Best damn Property Collector is allowed to talk as I please."  
  
"Thieves don't brag about their profession though."  
  
"Thief? I am no common street stealer anymore then you're a simple assassin."  
  
"You know assassins don't exist officially. I'm just not a people-person like you."  
  
Such bickering. I was going to like listening to them in the darkness. They were playing their words back and forth as they crossed the room I lived in. I heard their footsteps as they crossed in front and below my ledge.  
  
"Not a people-person? You, Yancha, the Kinkiller? Be still me beating heart!"  
  
"Shut up and open the door already."  
  
A stall breeze and slight creak of wood told me which door they'd opened. So I slowly began to follow the voices; walking along the sturdy wood ledge as I made my way after them.  
  
"Um. did you hear something? Like a rock being moved?"  
  
"...."  
  
"..good. I hoped you had too."  
  
They lapsed into silence in everything but their light footsteps. Cautiously I continued to follow: muffling my tread. Making my way to where I knew a vacated display column was, and where I could descend down to the floor.  
  
"Who's there? Appear and announce yourself!"  
  
I pause, unsure. Surprised they could still see in the darkness.  
  
"Come out, coward."  
  
"A big ass sword is hardly inviting, Yancha."  
  
"Shhhh! I'm trying to listen, half-elf."  
  
Silence. They shifted in the dark and I remained motionless until they continued toward the main room.  
  
"Okay. I think you're right. Creepy place."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Um, Yancha. Do you feel a breeze?"  
  
And then a wind tore down the halls, as I knew it would. It was the old magic of my creators. The centuries hadn't diminished their spells power. When it passed the intruder's words began to make sense again.  
  
"Bloody barbaric.."  
  
"Damn slime shit! Ow! It got my eyes, that hell born wind did. Damn magic and cursed old man..get my hands on 'em.."  
  
They were angry at the permanent darkness touching them. They didn't know it was a forever darkness such as I knew. But they were funny and I liked them, so I went to greet them.  
  
"Slipwalk, quit it."  
  
"Wasn't me. Honest. And our torch is out."  
  
"No it's not. I can feel the heat."  
  
"Oh, bloody damn. I'm going to do more then kill that old man. I'm gonna kill him very, very slowly."  
  
"That's my job, thief. Now, do you know a counter spell for blindness?"  
  
"Doesn't work. This stuffs too old and powerful for my dabbles in magic."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"No, not really."  
  
I walked up to their feet as they talked so loudly in whispers. Feeling their shapes with my hearing as they moved about. However, it was boring being ignored. It was time to meet the two in true greetings of my kind.  
  
"It's called sarcasm you illiterate th.."  
  
Thud.  
  
"Oafff! AHH!"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"A rock jumped me chest and it's moving! Get off, get off! Ow. Stop wiggling~!"  
  
"Wiggling? Jumped? Did you set off another trap?"  
  
"Did not! ..quit stepping on my.IIEEE!...get off, get off, get off and let me breath."  
  
I got concerned at the lighter voice wheezing words beneath me. Was his chest that fragile? But I'm just a little gargoyle, so how could I hurt him? Perhaps the lighter voice need to calm down. I hummed softly as I would a littermate.  
  
"Well, hold still and let me feel it. I'll help get it off when I find it."  
  
"The rock. It's singing! Hold still, little nuisance. Uncle Slipwalk just wants you off my lungs, that's it."  
  
"I'm feeling wings on your 'rock', Slipwalk. And it's got granite skin."  
  
I preened at the admiration of my wings by stretching them for a few flaps. Soon I'd be big enough to fly, unlike my fledging brother, who still had stumpy bumps where I had wings. Although the burning torch's smoke the deeper voiced Yancha brought close clogged my nose.  
  
"That's nice. Nice, annoying, winged rock.yes, you are. Stand still for Uncle Slipwalk.."  
  
".. I can't believe you're baby talking to a gargoyle."  
  
"Good. Listen to Uncle Slipwalk..that do ya mean a gargoyle? Those are huge. This bit is as big as a cat!"  
  
"I'm not joking. It feelings like one of those miniature cats, or wolves, that were high on those ledges."  
  
Silence as I happily shivered on Uncle Slipwalk when he got a good grip on me. How warm and secure he felt. And that wheezing had stopped after holding me up off his chest.  
  
"Cool. Can I keep him?"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Keep him. I can feed him, water him.."  
  
"You mean wash him, right?"  
  
"..wash him and take care of him when he gets sick."  
  
"You're serious."  
  
"Why not? If I got ta be blind, an invulnerable pet would be perfect. And I can teach him to fetch."  
  
"You mean steal."  
  
"Same difference."  
  
Uncle Slipwalk wanted to keep me! I nuzzled a hand that held me just above his chest. Only Yancha seemed not happy at the idea as he continued arguing with my older playmate.  
  
"Be thinking about how to get this jewel, blind in a magic guarded maze, instead. I, for one, have no intention of dying today."  
  
"Can I make note of next Sallson then? Good baby rock guard. Give me a hand up, Yancha?"  
  
"Ugh. You alone are some hundred-forty pounds. That thing must weigh about fifty by itself!"  
  
There was a grunt as I was turned and tucked under one arm so Yancha could pull my playmate to his feet. A faint clanking of chain mail and weapon sheaths wobbling a moment before settling back in place. I listened as to my new friend's odd habit of talking to himself, me and Yancha without missing a beat.  
  
"Thanks. Floor is really cold and I shudder to think what my clothes look like now. Isn't that right, Cuddles?"  
  
"That better be that gargoyles name."  
  
"Yeah. He seems to adore cuddles as close as heavy rock critters can. So can I keep him if we live?"  
  
"Of all the.. fine, but do your job first. Then we'll talk about this in depth."  
  
"What a pal! And they say you're not an understanding sort."  
  
"Shut up and get us there and out already." 


End file.
